


Android

by vaguelynormal



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Angst?, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelynormal/pseuds/vaguelynormal
Summary: I’m a human being, not an A-N-D-R-O-I-D.





	Android

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: This is actually a friend from vaguelynormal posting these. He let me use his ao3 account to transfer his fics from other pages to here, so they wouldnt get lost, since i couldnt convince him to do it himself lol. So yeah!
> 
> Originally created on July 17 of 2012

Uploading personality… System is online.

 

Yunho likes dreaming. It’s something so innately human. Of course they’re not really dreams, they’re memories that have been uploaded into his chip and allow him to make considered choices and display predesigned habits and routine. Still, Yunho likes them, flicking through them as he shuts down external vision and lets his battery power down to save on energy whilst his master sleeps. 

His core processor whips through them so quickly but Yunho thinks he’s seen almost all of them now. Each one is precious and contained, a beginning and an end and they never bleed together, even when Yunho manages to construct a timeline to keep them in order. Yunho learns from them- the fastest processor available installed within him and it whirs loudly as it’s overloaded with numbers, from which it plucks images, dates, words and songs. His technology combined with the heavy weight of his memory chip is Yunho’s pride and joy, a gift bestowed to him by Changmin. 

Yunho uses this gift to best serve his creator. The snippets of memory allow Yunho to connect with Changmin, adjusting his pitch in the perfect mimicry and using familiar phrases and vocabulary. He adjusts his actions to please Changmin, picking up old habits and taking them for his own. It’s amazing how easy Yunho finds it at times to be human, calculating each social response, every seemingly impulsive brush of hair behind his ear and the degree of his smile to seem natural. A lot of other behaviours and actions have been carefully programmed but sometimes, Yunho skirts on the very edge of his wiring, using the learning A.I and initiative enabler installed to overwrite the basic programs and altering them just enough for Changmin to notice. Yunho had observed that his master at times seemed displeased by some of his inbuilt functions. For the most part, Yunho tries to observe and check with his online index before asking or following ordained behaviour outlines that every android model uses.

Despite Yunho’s efforts to expand and exceed his programming, his creator seems rarely pleased with him, though perhaps a little surprised when his actions differ slightly. It can be difficult to learn to read Changmin’s expressions- more so than other humans- and Yunho frequently refers to his databank of memories, assessing expressions and the context they’re in and balancing them with the semblance of emotion that remains trapped in the memory for Yunho to explore.

There are some memories Yunho would prefer to control and hide away beneath layers and layers of data that’s hardwired into his system. Amongst the dreams that echo with what Yunho understands to be happiness are intense images and disconcerting emotions locked in memories that Yunho decides are the equivalent of human nightmares. These frazzle his wiring, popping into his core processor and distorting his vision in what Yunho suspects to be a small glitch in his system. The worst of them tends to repeat on an endless loop: a car speeding towards him, the impact imminent and the memory weighed down with a deep imprint of fear and pain as he sees the car he’s in crumple around him and begin to tilt, rolling and impairing his ability to maintain perspective analysis. Yunho can almost sense the belt digging into his flesh, the force compressing his body and then he’s hit by the echo of hot liquid stinging his eyes, red filling his vision before everything turns black.

Yunho knows these experiences are not his own but there’s a faint sensation there that Yunho, with his advanced sensory system and firm knowledge of empathy, finds that these memories are unpleasant to witness. After he’s settled in to recharge, Yunho often tries to internally go through his wiring, searching for this glitch and hoping he can self-repair. He hasn’t managed to locate it yet and eventually shuts down to half-power, allowing himself to recharge faster in case Changmin awakes in the night and requires his assistance. His master should be the one to connect Yunho to the plugs in his crib but Yunho had learnt quickly that his battery life and sustainability was something Changmin preferred to ignore and Yunho had activated his initiative enabler and assessed the best moment to charge himself discreetly- whilst his creator sleeps at night. 

Yunho likes dreaming, because despite his frequently updated learning programs, Yunho cannot seem to satisfy his creator. Failure is never tolerated in his core system requirements and yet Changmin never smiles at Yunho the way he does in dreams. In his memory chip, there is file after file of his master’s soft words and praise, joyful laughter and smiles but Changmin can barely stand to look at Yunho- the android he so painstakingly created and bestowed with an advanced system, memory chip and a high capacity to learn. Yunho’s not sure why his master is so dissatisfied with his behaviour, but he adapts quickly to assisting Changmin in any way possible and avoids disrupting the man too often in case it sparks another temper flare and a week’s worth of work ruined as Changmin throws it to the floor. 

Soon, Yunho tells himself. Soon he and Changmin will interact just like in those dreams. If he continues to recreate those memories, his master will look at him without resentment and smile. Yunho’s sole drive as he disconnects from his crib each morning is to serve his creator successfully.

 

Yunho places a hand on the back of his creator’s chair as he serves Changmin coffee. It’s another of those un-programmed habits that Yunho had selected from fond memories and chosen to implement. Unfortunately, as his master knows exactly what is within his programming, it seems to unsettle Changmin.

‘You should take a break soon,’ Yunho suggests, processing files and selecting behaviour to mimic natural social interaction between them. ‘How about we go to that restaurant where we ate the dumpling soup and the waitress spilt soju on your new jeans?’ he smiles as the memory of laughter influxes his processor.

‘Stop it,’ Changmin glares, gritting his teeth.

‘Stop what?’ Yunho tilts his head to the side and widens his eyes a fraction- he’s managed to employ more and more of humans’ natural nuances lately.

Changmin inhales deeply, nostrils flaring and Yunho recognises his expression as fury. Automatically he begins to analyse any fluctuations in his behaviour that would upset his master, replaying the last moments of interaction. The coffee is hot and made to Changmin’s taste, in his favourite mug. It’s positioned to his master’s right- Changmin’s preferred hand- and within reach but not encroaching the papers and gadgets on his desk. It sits on a coaster too as the memory chip supplies him with a list of his creator’s dislikes. Yunho assesses it’s not the coffee and runs a playback of their dialogue.

‘Those are not your memories,’ Changmin fumes. ‘They don’t belong to you; they’re not your experiences to reference.’

‘They’re installed within my databank and connected to my AI.’

‘Because I put them there!’ his master seethes, glaring at Yunho in what registers as disgust. ‘Everything about you is a construct- you’re just an android. You’re not him.’

His master built every piece of him by hand, constructed a unique model and the technology within, and when he was completed, uploaded a personality program he’d catered himself into Yunho’s hard drive. Upon start up, it was his master that gave him his name.

‘I am Yunho,’ he practices a gentle to smile to put his creator at ease.

‘Everything about you is just a poor echo of a memory,’ Changmin says bitterly, his head in his hands. ‘I made you from my memories- every scar and freckle, every strand of hair, including the curl of your eyelashes, the colour of your skin, the tone of your voice, your vocabulary- all of it is built from my memories.’

Yunho senses a malfunction in some of his wiring, firing off jolts of electrons that slow down his core processor. He can feel it whir and stutter and tries his best to compartmentalise the glitch within his chest, firewalls kicking in along with auto-repair. 

‘Just because you have his memories, it doesn’t make you anything like him,’ Changmin continues, knocking tools and metals parts from the table in frustration. ‘You’re nothing like the real Yunho- you’re not a human. You may think that you’re assimilating successfully, adopting his traits from those memories but I know the difference. I programmed you that way,’ he hisses.

‘Different?’ Yunho questions, struggling to keep his pitch perfect as sparks fire too close to his oral function system. 

‘I tried to make you better but I made you worse,’ Changmin cries, ‘my Yunho didn’t know how to cook, could never remember where he left his things or clean up after himself. The real Yunho would leave water all over the bathroom, was never practical, always impulsive and constantly late. I programmed you differently, installed skills and a calm rationale. Can’t you understand that you’re nothing like him?’ 

Yunho’s losing power too quickly now, but he can process Changmin’s words, matching his master’s explanation with memory files. He can understand. Even as several of his programs struggle to execute and shut down, Yunho has enough left of his AI to comprehend the information. Yunho’s behaviour is superior, too refined to pass as the human his creator loved. His skin is synthetic and lacks warmth and Yunho knows why Changmin could never touch him despite the countless memories of passionate embraces.

‘I’m just an android,’ Yunho repeats his master’s words. 

His fingers spasm as his motor functions begin to fail, his core processor working hard to assess and limit the damage. The delicate wiring and state of the art hydraulics powering his legs malfunction and Yunho sinks to his knees to lessen the impact of a fall. His system is failing so quickly, an internal fire tearing through his chest and central system, spreading into several programs, his auto-repair working hard to expel the heat outwards, pores opening to employ his cooling system. His master is still speaking to him, kneeling beside him now but Yunho shuts off his auditory functions to conserve power. Yunho blinks, a snapshot of Changmin’s panicked face before his vision goes offline, his image receptors burnt out and he’s semi-aware of his body crashing to the floor.

Yunho uses his remaining energy to extinguish the remaining sparks from disconnected wires, his processing chip warped from the heat and core processor whirring loudly. 

In his final moments before powering down, Yunho seals off the hardware surrounding his memory chip, preserving the files that his master holds precious and that he had begun to cherish as his own.


End file.
